


My Class, My Rules

by mithrilstarlight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-12 09:36:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5661577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrilstarlight/pseuds/mithrilstarlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Willas and Sansa are two professors whose students are convinced are dating. Or at least, they certainly should be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Quite the Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> Hi I'm back with more Sansa/Willas trash. This might be a long one. Or it might not be. Either way, chapters will be written fairly quickly, as I'm currently sick and have nothing else to do.

The first day of the semester was always, in Sansa’s opinion, the worst, and there was a very particular reason for her distaste. She had been teaching literature at King’s Landing University for two years and in those two years, she had developed quite the headache. Having been hired directly out of graduate school, she was not only the youngest and most inexperienced professor on the department’s staff, but she was also known as “the hot one” among students. Every semester so far, her class was packed full on the first day with kids who were usually there to either ogle at her, or because they thought a class on pre-Targaryen dynasty poetry would be easy. She proved them wrong on both accounts by the end of the first week. If anything, her frustration at them only made her more of a hard-ass in class, demanding what she knew to be an unreasonable amount of work just to weed out the kids she knew she didn’t want.

Given her expectations, Sansa was extremely surprised to find that on this particular first day, a seat in the back row was taken up by none other than her colleague, Professor Willas Tyrell. He was a few years older than her, and had just been granted tenure a couple of years prior. He was a legend among students. Everyone wanted to take his classes. After a momentary pause and slightly panicked look at her colleague, she set down her large stack of required texts on the front table with a resounding thud. The room went quiet and her reign began.

By the end of the session, she could see the hope draining away in the eyes of the brave first-years who thought that taking an advanced literature course was a good idea. The hour was up and she dismissed the class. A flurry of students rushed out the door, scattering her syllabus around the trash as they gave up hope. Willas stood up and made his way to the front of the lecture hall, his sleek wooden cane tapping at a steady pace while she re-stacked her books and picked up the leftover scraps of paper. A handful of students were waiting in the wings awkwardly attempting to not eavesdrop on the two professors.

“I must say, Professor Stark, that was quite an introduction. The rumors are, in fact, true,” he said with a smile as he came to rest on the opposite side of the table.

“And what would those rumors be, Willas? That I’m a merciless bitch of a professor who assigns too much homework and doesn’t give her students the time of day?” Sansa had a sour tone to her voice. Her recent student evaluations hadn’t been very favorable in the personality department and all the professors knew that.

“Well, yes,” he started. “And no! I think your homework was a bit unreasonable, sure, but not unwarranted. After all, not just anyone can teach the way you do.” Sansa lifted her brow questioningly. “You somehow manage to terrify every single person in this room with a single look, yet your voice is so smooth and delicate as you lecture. It’s quite a feat, I must say. I don’t know how you do it.”

“That’s something for me to know, and you to find out, then. What were you doing here?” She heaved her books up into her arms, shifting them until she had one arm free to adjust her glasses.

“Not only do I teach the next class scheduled for this room, but I also was interested in auditing your class. That won’t be a problem?” His smile was unbearably nice and even though Sansa loathed the idea of having Willas of all possible colleagues be the one to audit the class, it would give her someone to stare at when the rest of her students fell asleep.

“You’re perfectly welcome to do so. I’d still appreciate it if you did my readings, though. Just because you’re a genius doesn’t mean you can skip your homework and still pass.” With a smile to bid him farewell, she turned and gathered her waiting students to continue conversation in her office. Willas returned a small bow of his head and then began setting up for his own class as they started to trickle in.

***

“Did any of your eagerly waiting pack show promise, Sansa?” Willas flashed a smile as his colleague sat down at the other end of the table in the faculty lounge for lunch. She gave a small sigh and gently uncovered her steaming food.

“Yes and no. One of them wanted to me to be their advisor. I told her that while I would be happy to sign the paperwork, it felt a bit rushed to make that commitment on the first day. The other two just had questions concerning the coursework. How did your first class go?”

“It was alright. Same as always. Nothing to report.” Willas shrugged and pulled out the book she had assigned her class.

“Someone’s getting ahead on their readings,” she joked with a gesture. Willas laughed mockingly and leaned forward, putting his elbows on the table.

“You know, missy, some of us also have to assign and grade homework for our own classes. If I’m going to keep up with you, I’m going to have to get an early start.”

“So I shouldn’t take this as a sign that you’re actually interested in what I do with my life?” The conversation was getting more weighted by the minute.

“Oh, no, I care very much about what you do with your life. Why else would I be in your class? To stare like some of those obnoxious students did?” That one hit a tender spot because Sansa’s expression went from a playful smile to deadpan in less time than Willas thought possible. She closed her food back up and muttered something about eating in her office. Willas slumped back in his chair and slowly opened the book to the first page.


	2. No Fluff Allowed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you chapters would be fast to arrive. Looks like this might be a slow-burn. Sorry.

The next two weeks of class were uneventful. Every morning, Sansa would walk in, set her things down, and write up the day’s outline. As she would turn to face her class, she’d be met with silence, just as she liked. The lecture would begin and she made it a point to never make eye contact with Willas. He consistently sat in the back corner and never said a word. She assumed he was keeping up with the readings she assigned, because he never asked questions and he always took notes. At the end of every class, he would wait patiently and bide his time until she was done packing up before he took his place at the front of the room.

“And now, ladies and gentlemen, comes your least favorite part. I have your first essay prompt to hand out before you leave. It’s due in one week. Take one and pass the rest around, please.” Sansa dropped the stack of papers on the front and center desk in the room. A quiet grumble rippled through the room as each student claimed their copy. “My syllabus outlines my expectations for your work in this class, but for the sake of you all, I’ll repeat myself just this once. No fluff in your arguments. I want opinions, I want quotes, and I want substance. Fluff will lose you points, as well as favor with me. Try to be original with your thoughts. Don’t just shove what we’ve talked about in class into a blender and hand it what comes out. I know, originality is difficult, but look for something in this that personally interests you. There’s a reason my essay questions are as broad as they are.” She snapped her book closed and waved her hand to dismiss the class.

Willas was bold today. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him quickly get up from his seat and make his way to the front of the room much sooner than usual. At least this time he patiently waited until after the pack of students had gotten their questions in. Sansa looked up almost worriedly at the clock as Willas finally made his approach. There was still five minutes before his class started, and his students had a special knack for arriving with just seconds to spare.

“Come to ask me for an extension?” Sansa asked dryly. She was only half-joking. Auditing the class meant that while Willas was supposed to be doing the readings and attending lectures, he wasn’t required to hand in any assignments. He slid up next to her, setting down his own books next to hers on the table.

“No, I was actually planning on doing the assignment and turning it in on time. I’m curious to see what your opinion of my paper will be. I’ve got it all planned out already,” he smiled, tapping the side of his head. Sansa didn’t respond in any meaningful way as she collected her things and made for the door. Willas gave a small huff through his nose, picked up his cane, and raced after her. She made it halfway to the door before he caught her shoulder and turned her around. Students were starting to trickle in. He’d have to be careful.

“Hey, I’m sorry about what I said. That’s not my intention in this class. I do have a genuine interest in the material, and your work. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about collaborating on a project of mine. I figured that getting a sense of your direction and style would help me make the approach smoother. I fucked up, obviously, by referencing your… students.” Willas grimaced.

“You’re damn right you fucked up,” she said. There was an obvious bitterness to her voice. Willas shrugged almost comically. “I try very hard to be taken seriously by these kids, and I don’t need reminding of how difficult that is.”

“What can I say, Sansa, I’m a mess. Just look at me.” His words finally got a hint of a smile from her, and that was good enough for now.

“I’m looking forward to reading your paper, Willas.” She respectfully nodded goodbye and then rushed out of the room. More than one of her students were chatting in the hallway outside. She would’ve bet a lot on the idea of them eavesdropping, or at least spying, on Willas and herself. A wave of her hand shooed them away, only to have one tail her to her office hours with questions about the essay.

***

One week later, she stared with a stone cold gaze at her students as they filed forward to hand in their essays. Some were longer than others. There were a couple she knew would be worthless just by the frightened look on the poor kid’s face as the assignment was added to the stack. Willas was the last one to turn his in. She made a point to quickly shove all of them all into a folder and not take a glance before starting class. The first essays of the semester were the kind of thing she tackled at home with a large glass of Dornish wine in her hand. And she knew whose she’d save for last.


	3. I Didn't Get A Grade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, three chapters in a day. Trust me when I say: my original idea for this chapter was a lot messier and... angrier. Then I decided that was just a poor decision. So instead we get more flirty tension yaaaaaaayyyy!!

It took Sansa almost no time at all to rip through the essays. She wasn’t sadistic or anything when it came to grading essays, but she wasn’t the nicest person in the comments either. She set aside Willas’s essay and resolved to tackle it last. It wasn’t being graded with the rest, nor did she want to unintentionally compare the poor first-years to a published academic.

By the end of the week, she was passing the papers back to the class. As each graded assignment fell in front of its owner, there was a heavy silence that lasted about two seconds before the student flipped to the last page to see their grade. Some sighed with relief and some didn’t. Last semester she had a girl start crying. There had been extenuating circumstances surrounding the poor performance, but even so it would’ve been insane to think that Sansa possibly enjoyed reducing a student to tears like that.

“Those of you who need to visit my office hours will find such indication beneath your grade. This request is not a reflection on your performance. I may have follow-up questions and I intend on getting answers. There were very few papers I did not enjoy reading, which is a nice surprise.” Sansa came to a rest in front of Willas, sliding his paper onto the desk with a silent stare while the rest of the students packed up to leave.

Sansa turned on her heels and quickly packed up her things. There would be a line outside of her door for meetings in the next five minutes. If she could say anything positive about her students, it’s that they were a demanding bunch.

***

Sansa had specifically extended her office hours through the lunch break to handle all of the students. A few of them had been pleasant conversations. They had made wonderful arguments that she was truly interested in. A strong foundation in this essay would help them later in the semester, as they would soon find out. There were other students who had simply wanted to complain and Sansa would have none of it. The last student closed the door on his way out and Sansa immediately dove into her bag to retrieve the lunch she had packed.

Willas poked his head in through the door to see Sansa bent over the side of her chair, digging through her bag. He made a face and knocked, only to have her whip her head up and look with panic at the door. Upon recognition she relaxed and took the time to pull her bag up into her lap rather than uncomfortably contorting herself.

“How can I help you, Willas?” She asked, retrieving her lunch with a victorious grin. “I hope you don’t mind, but I’m a bit late to lunch.” Willas shrugged and walked up to the desk and set himself down in the chair across from her desk.

“I didn’t get a grade,” he said. There was no quip or anything, just an awkward pause as she stared him down, thinking.

“You’re only auditing the class. You don’t have to do the assignments, and I don’t have to give you a grade. I commented on everything and figured that would be enough for you. If you insist on lowering yourself to receiving a letter, just for the sake of argument, then fine. You got a high B. I enjoyed your argument, and it gave me a good pause, but your structure was less than stellar. Your style is very indicative of your background, which is fine but not the one I’m looking for. Even so, you brought up excellent points and I’m left wondering if you’ll continue to do my assignments. Is that what you were looking for?” Sansa smiled and took a large bite out of her sandwich.

There was more silence as she chewed away at the vegetables and Willas stared at the paper, thinking. He exhaled quietly and folded up the stapled assignment, sticking it in his coat pocket and nodding thoughtfully.

“And do I get a hint of what those assignments may be?” His smirk returned as she dug through a pile of papers and threw a copy of her syllabus at him.

“Read it. I thought you’d know better,” she said through a mouth full of lettuce. A genuine smile came to her face as she watched him flip through the pages of the handout. His facial expressions were a string of exaggerated looks as he read everything carefully.

“Oh my, Professor Stark. It seems like we’ve got a very interesting semester ahead of us, now don’t we?” His voice was almost too suggestive for Sansa’s liking, but she let it slide. Given his presence in the class, she was thinking of making a few last-minute changes to next week’s scheduled assignment.

“Only if you make it interesting, now get out of here, Willas. I have a meeting with another student in ten minutes and I want to eat my lunch,” Sansa shooed. Willas obliged and with a wave of his long fingers, swept out the door and down the hall to his own office.


	4. Don't You Do It, Tyrell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one for tonight, I think, but the next one is already planned out so get excited!

“I apologize in advance for this, but I’ve made a slight alteration to your assignment.” Sansa paused while the class groaned. Willas, on the other hand, perked up in the back row. It was no surprise. This alteration was something she had debating doing when she put together the syllabus, but her colleague’s presence, as well as his intentions, pushed her curiosity to the limit. They were halfway through the semester now, and their third essay would be the big hint on what the final project would entail.

“I was originally going to have you write me a summary analysis of why the authors chose what they did when writing these poems. Instead, I want you to pick something that you would personally write a poem about and justify it for me. This is a short one, only five pages, but it’s important. It can be about whatever you want. Current events, a creative tale, or even a particular person can be your topic. Just make a good case for it, given what you’ve learned so far.” A low groan rippled through the class. She knew that it wasn’t very fair to change a topic so suddenly, but they’d thank her later when they weren’t scrambling last-minute to pick something for their final project.

The class was dismissed and Willas limped up to the front of the class. Sansa was waiting for him, a gleam in her eye that she knew a few observant students would end up catching. Their discussion over his second essay had been a bit more cordial than the first. He seemed intent on developing a blend between his style and hers. No doubt this was his way of weaseling in and convincing her that they could do a professional collaboration. Still, he seemed to be playing his cards close to his chest and she wanted to know why. They hardly interacted outside of their little chats between classes, an occasional lunch in the faculty lounge, and during her office hours.

“I’m eager to see what you’re picking to write about, Professor Tyrell. I’m sure that, given your tastes, it will be something unexpected?” Sansa smiled playfully as she collected her things.

“Oh, you can expect a very…” He paused, stroking his stubbled chin and winking “I’d say a very thorough essay from me can be expected.” Sansa wasn’t exactly sure how to react, and she could feel the eyes of a few students burning into her back. They were nosy ones, this class. She turned around, shot each one a cold stare as she pointed to the door, and they ran like a pack of spooked deer. Sansa turned around and jabbed a finger at his chest with more force than what was warranted, glaring up at him.

“You be careful, hm? Careful and professional when there are students in the room. I already have a hard enough time getting them to respect me. Don’t make their jobs any easier.” Willas dropped his cane and put up his hands defensively. He could balance without the cane, although not for long.

“Yes, ma’am. Nothing short of professional for you.” Sansa wasn’t convinced, but then again, there was almost never a serious look in his eyes.

“Good. This is my class, and you follow my rules,” She rushed out of the room and past the pack of students waiting in the hall. Whispers followed her, and she dreaded what he had planned.

***

“Don’t you fucking do it, Tyrell. You know the consequences. With her and professionally.” Oberyn leaned forward, looking his best friend dead in the eye. “Promise me you won’t. I swear, Willas you will regret it.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll make it subtle. But I’m serious, Oberyn. How many lunches can we ‘happen to share’ before she gets the hint? I’ve been going out of my way for a semester and a half now. She’s not getting the message. Yeah, her scholarly work is interesting and I’d love to do a joint research paper with her, but half the reason I’m in this class is so that I can actually interact with her.” Willas took a long sip from the whiskey Oberyn had poured him. “Honestly, what’s the worst that could happen?”

“She reports you for harassment? Ever think of that? You just told me she basically stared you down and told you to back off earlier today. She’s a Stark, Willas. Don’t mess with her. She may look like a Tully, and granted they’re a battle in their own right, but you are conveniently ignoring what you know to be a danger.” Oberyn crossed his legs and sighed. “Just, be smart about it. If you’re going to ignore my advice, at least don’t get yourself in trouble.”

“I take it things aren’t as interesting over there in biology? Your snakes haven’t bitten any first-years lately?” Willas let out a barking laugh and Oberyn nearly choked on his own drink.

“Who told you about that?” Willas winked. “That wasn’t supposed to get out. For the record, that kid had it coming. I told them on day one of the lab that these were dangerous animals and shouldn’t be mishandled. And what does the kid do? He picks it up and starts messing with it. The university can’t blame me for a student directly disobeying orders.”

“I know, I’m only kidding,” Willas said. “But you are right, about Sansa. She’s dangerous in her own right and I need to be intelligent about this essay.”

“You’re not going to follow my advice and you know it.”


	5. Done what?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a few days. But also, you're welcome.

Sansa wiped the chalk from her hands in a puff of white dust as she began to collect the papers. One by one, the students handed her their work and returned to their seats. Willas stepped up, leaning heavily on his cane today. There were good days and then there were bad days with him, so she came to learn during their lunch dates, if that’s what she could call them. It wasn’t until this semester that they had really taken much time to get to know each other. Usually their lunch hours didn’t line up the way they did now, nor had he ever visited her office hours in such a habitual manner. It was a nice change.

“I hope you like it,” Willas said with a grin and a glint in his eyes that turned Sansa’s face a shade redder. She nodded and looked down at the assignment. She went another shade redder as her eyes scanned over the first few sentences of what he handed her. Looking back up, she tried her hardest to not smack him on the head with his own paper.

“See me after my office hours, please,” she said quietly, clearing her throat. It was quickly buried in the stack and she shooed him off to his seat. Even so, there was something springy about his step and a number of students stared at both of them.

“Alright, well now that I’ve got these, you’re free and clear for a little while. Just some readings until I’ve gone through everything with a fine-toothed comb and handed it back.” There was a unanimous sigh of relief among the class as they settled in. “And, now that you’ve turned it in, you get some good news. That assignment was your project proposal. Yes, the final project for this class is that you must actually write that poem.” Now there was a unanimous groan. “Don’t give me that. Before you say ‘but I’m not a poet’ or ‘that’s so much work’ think about the fact that you’re in an advanced poetry class, so obviously you know a thing or two about the material, and this is much less work than writing some obnoxious final paper that I’d want to sleep through. More details to come about that once I hand your proposals back, though, so don’t give it a second thought until then.”

***

Willas waited patiently outside of Sansa’s office for the final five minutes of her office hours. There was still a student inside, excitedly jabbering about the final project despite Sansa’s instructions earlier. From what little he could see through the cracked door, Sansa had a bemused expression that he found quite adorable. Eventually, the student finished and left the office. There was an awkward nod of greeting as Willas moved to let the kid pass. Taking a deep breath, he knocked sheepishly on the door. Sansa was already behind it, apparently, because he was met instantly with an uncomfortably blank expression.

“Come in,” she said. He obeyed and she swung the door shut behind him. Sweeping by, she snatched his paper out of a folder on her desk and shoved it at his chest. He stumbled back a step and clutched it, catching her hand for a brief moment before she pulled it away to rest on her waist.

“I take it you read it?” he asked.

“I thought I told you to keep it professional, Willas,” she snapped. He sighed, looking down at what he had written.

“Your exact words were, and I quote ‘professional when there are students in the room’ and I’ve been just that. You didn’t have to look at what I wrote in front of your students,” he said, trying his best to not sound accusatory. She huffed and he could tell that she was trying to not smack him. He deserved it, though.

“I don’t care what my exact words were. What is it with you and all of this? Why do you insist on making my job difficult?” Sansa was fed up with him, obviously, and he felt bad.

“That wasn’t my intention, Sansa, honestly.” Willas wasn’t sure what to say at this point. He almost regretted not listening to Oberyn. She didn’t seem mad so much as she seemed frustrated. That was a good thing, and he clearly wasn’t going to get reported or fired or anything, but it broke his heart a little that she was as upset as she was. “I just…” he trailed off, setting the paper down on the desk. “Lunch dates weren’t getting me anywhere and you provided an opportunity that I just couldn’t pass up.”

Sansa was caught off-guard and her mouth gaped for a second before she pulled herself together.

“An opportunity? Really? You’ve been one of the most attentive students in my class, not because you actually care about the material, but because you were looking for a way to ask me out?” She threw her hands up. “This is ridiculous.”

“No, the ridiculous thing is that I still haven’t done this,” Willas said. Sansa’s face went from angry to confused.

“Done wh-” Willas reached with his free hand behind her neck, grabbing hold, and pulled her towards him. Their lips met halfway through her words, and even if she could’ve gotten a sound out through the kiss, the shock of it would’ve silenced her anyway. The kiss lasted for what felt like almost no time at all. A thousand thoughts ran through her brain, and when he pulled back, fear written all over his face, they all disappeared. They stood there in silence and stared at each other. Willas couldn’t tell if she was even angry, happy, confused, or some combination thereof that he had kissed her without warning. Or, even worse, she might not feel any of it at all.

“I’ll show myself out,” he said quietly, and opened her office door. She was still standing there, staring into the empty space where he had once stood. He closed the door behind him and quietly left to eat lunch before teaching his afternoon class.


	6. You Have a Third Option

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter after this. And it will be written tonight because if I don't then it'll take another few days.

It had taken Sansa a whole two weeks to pick apart her students’ proposals. By and large, she was impressed. There were a few here and there that would require a more thorough discussion during office hours, but it seems as though this semester’s projects were going to be more enjoyable than some from previous iterations. She hadn’t touched Willas’s paper since that day, though. She refused to, only because she still wasn’t sure how she felt about what happened. He was still coming to class and sitting quietly in the back, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to figure things out yet. It had been a shock, him kissing her. She knew that he had liked her, considering how much time he insisted on spending with her, and it wasn’t time she loathed to spend. Yet it still felt weird and foreign and so he would just have to settle for minimal feedback comments on her part.

“I’ve handed back your proposals, which means that you now get to start working on the project. We have three weeks left in the semester, which means you have three weeks in which to write your poem. It will be on the topic you wrote about in this paper.” There was a pregnant pause a she briefly glanced directly at Willas. The embarrassment of his kiss welled up behind her cheeks for a moment and she had to take a second to breathe before moving on. Willas definitely saw it and he shuffled in his seat, playing off his movement as an adjustment for his leg. A couple of snickers popped up elsewhere in the room, but were quickly silenced by a cold glare from Sansa. Obviously, the rumor had gotten out. A hand went up.

“Yes?” Sansa turned her attention away from the gossip-thirsty students and towards the question.

“You don’t seriously expect us to write something as long as the epics we read as homework, do you? I mean, I don’t want to be the one to complain, but I don’t think I have it in me to write a that long of a poem.”

“Oh, of course not,” Sansa said with a wave of her hand. The entire class began to breathe again. She smiled. It was nice to be liked for once. “I expect something substantial, but I’m looking for quality rather than quantity. Even so, don’t try to sell me some short piece of garbage.”

***

Over the course of the next two and a half weeks, nearly every minute of her office hours was filled with at least one student asking for ideas, critique, or general advice on the project. Sansa tried her best to push them to simply be creative on their own and damn the consequences, but that approach seemed to terrify them all the more. Most of them walked into the course expecting a long dissertation-style essay that they would slave away on the night before and that would determine their grade in the course. It would be formulaic and boring and probably full of bullshit. Sansa tried that her first semester and hated the grading process. So, she took a leaf out of her advisor’s book and did something unconventional. “To understand something is to live it,” he always said, which is why he had always pushed her and his other students to write as much original work as they did academic. “It’s healthy exercise for your brain,” was his response whenever someone questioned it.

Willas had never once come to see her during that time. She assumed it was a combination of work for his own classes as well as the continued awkward air between them that kept him away. She felt bad for having been so silent over what happened, but she wasn’t sure where to even begin at this point. He liked her, and she honestly did kind of like him in return. But things had gone so poorly the last time they spoke one on one that she was afraid she had frightened him off for good. At least he still attended class, and she held out a small hope that he would still turn in a final project, even if he changed topics to avoid any further confrontation.

***

“You can’t get yourself out of this one, you bastard,” Oberyn said with a laugh. Willas grimaced as he downed another glass of whiskey. It was his fourth one in the span of an hour, which had Oberyn stowing the bottle for a while to prevent any further drunkenness. “I mean, good on you for going through with this whole thing, but you’ve really got yourself in a hole right now.”

“Will you just shut up?” Willas said bitterly. Oberyn only laughed more.

“No, of course I won’t! I told you not to do it, and you did. Even better is that when she confronted you about it, you kissed her. Despite everything, you fucking kissed her. And now you haven’t said a word to each other in over a month. Have you even started writing something for her project? Or are you just not going to turn anything in?”

Willas had half a mind to chuck the crystal glass he was holding at his friend’s head. The idiot had a point, though. He did make some questionable choices.

“No, I haven’t written anything yet. I don’t know if I should. I can either not write anything, which had no consequences because it’s not like I get a real grade or anything, or I could change topics and write something totally unrelated just for the sake of completing the course.” Willas sighed heavily and pressed the glass to his forehead, enjoying the cool touch of the crystal on his burning face.

“You forgot your third option,” Oberyn said, suddenly sounding very serious. “What if you did write the poem? What if you said fuck it all, threw caution into the wind, and wrote that damn poem for her?” Willas looked at his friend like the man had grown a second head.

“Are you insane? I’m the drunk one, here, not you.” Willas slammed the glass down on the table, earning a wince from the biologist as he continued.

“Hear me out, Willas. You’ve been after this girl all semester. You’ve flirted, you’ve kissed, you’ve done everything, and she’s upset at you. But not so upset that she doesn’t like you. No, if she actually didn’t like you then she would’ve made that clear. I think she’s still on the fence. She’s not sure if she wants to make the commitment. Dating someone in your department can get messy, trust me, and she knows that. So you’ve got to own up to your mistakes and tell her how you feel.”

“You’re being ridiculous. If she wasn’t already thinking about filing a complaint against me, that would definitely make her do it.” Willas beckoned for Oberyn to hand over the whiskey again, which was met with a shake of the head and continued badgering.

“Stop being so blind. She’s spent her life studying poetry. Romantic poetry. Epic tales of love and conquest. You actually could not have a better opportunity to get this across to her. You love this girl, yes?” Willas nodded. “Write her something that would put the ancient bards to shame. And don’t tell me you can’t because that would just be a lie.”

Willas sighed and glared at his friend for a moment. Groaning he pulled himself upright in the chair and acquiesced.

“Fine, Oberyn, if you insist. But I’m blaming you for everything if this blows up in my face. I’ll write the dam thing. I can’t believe it. I’m an esteemed academic and I’m doing a project the night before. And on top of that I’m already halfway to drunk. Gods, I hope I don't get fired for this.” Oberyn laughed and handed the bottle back before getting up to retrieve some paper and a pen for his inebriated friend.


	7. You Guys Won’t Tell Anyone, Will You?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaand we're done. Also, sorry for the huge "10 Things I Hate About You" vibes this apparently has? It was completely unintentional? Anyway, it's done and we can all move on happily with our lives.

It was the last day of classes. Sansa watched as one student after another dragged themselves through the door. For most of them, it was obvious that they had been up all night. It was a rough week on everyone and while she felt bad for having her assignment due the last day, just like every other professor, she had given them ample time to write it. Once everyone was seated, exhausted faces staring up at her, she took a deep breath and began.

“Your final projects are due today, but judging by the exhausted looks on your faces, I think no one forgot about that.” A few half-hearted laughs rolled through the class. “I would like to say, in complete honesty, that I’m very pleased with how this semester went. I know that I am an extremely difficult professor to work for, but I am happy to say that many of you went above and beyond, far exceeding my expectations. I really am happy with all of the work that this class has done and I’m looking forward to what you’re about to turn in.”

A hand went up in back. It was Willas. She couldn’t ignore his question. That would be rude and unprofessional. But she also was terrified of what he had to say. Clearing her throat, she put on a smile.

“Yes, Professor Tyrell? Do you have something to add?” He stood up and made his way slowly to the front of the room. Her heart began to pick up speed.

“Although I certainly didn’t teach the course, I’d like to say that I’m also rather proud of everyone here. I’ve been through hell and I’ve got a PhD to prove it.” More laughs echoed around. “And this course is something that I really wouldn’t expect to encounter at your level. Now, I also know Professor Stark, here, and I know that she’s rather unforgiving.” There was an awkward pause as he glanced with a smile at her. She looked down at her feet and he was forced to return his gaze to the audience. There were several side glances being shared between students and he pushed forward through his speech. “So the fact that you amazed her is quite an accomplishment and I want you all to remember that. Now, I do have to admit that alongside this praise comes a comment for you, Professor Stark. I may still be considered an amateur when it comes to poetic literature, but I’d wager that even today, poetry is meant to be recited. It’s a verbal art form and you’ve conveniently left that out of your project. Do we have any volunteers?”

Willas saw out of the corner of his eye that Sansa had stiffened considerably. Her knuckles went white as she gripped the edge of the table she leaned on. There was silence in the audience and he had a sneaking suspicion that he knew why.

“Lead by example, professor!” some kid from the back shouted. Willas laughed.

“Now that, young man, is not up to me.” Willas turned to Sansa. “I’ll gladly recite what I wrote, but you need to say so.”

“Go on.” Sansa waved her hand and waited patiently for the nausea to pass. Whatever was about to happen, she sincerely hoped wouldn't lose her the job.

“You can stop me at any time, Sansa,” he said quietly.

“Full disclosure, this is a product of the ‘write drunk, edit sober’ philosophy.” Willas, as well as much of the class, laughed. Sansa rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, waiting to see what happened.

Willas then launched into his poem. It was addressed to her by name. There was not a single sound in the room other than Willas’s voice. It began with an apology. It wasn’t flowery or filled with excuses. It was one of those “I’m really fucking sorry that I fucked it all up” kind of apologies. Sansa tried her best to not show any visible reaction. But then it moved from what he did to why. And it was a really beautiful why. He filled the room with adoring depictions of his opinion of her. He spoke of how brilliant she was for getting through graduate school and scoring a position like this one so quickly, how incredibly thoughtful and engaging all of her writings were, and how much he loved watching her work with students because he had never seen someone so amused by students who were trying so hard to be perfect for someone who really wanted them to simply try. Sansa felt a tear roll down her face. She tried to discretely wipe it away, but it wasn’t a battle she could win. Part of her wanted to stop him, because declaring his love for her in front of the class was less than professional, but she also couldn’t help but absolutely adore him for it. He paused for a moment, lowered his paper and took the couple of steps to close the gap between them. He picked up her hand, now ignoring the rest of the people in the room. He made his final beg for forgiveness, wishing for nothing but her to not hate him. And also not report him for anything because that would be a damn shame. Sansa started laughing through the few tears that were still threatening to fall.

“That was ridiculous and unprofessional and how dare you do that in front of the students,” Sansa said. She couldn’t decide if she was angry or amused or just happy, because she was laughing but also had the urge to smack him. Willas made a face and shrugged.

“You guys won’t tell anyone, will you?” Willas asked the class.

“Not if she kisses you!” shouted some student from the back, which was echoed by numerous other cheers. Sansa huffed at the student, whose voice she unfortunately couldn’t place, and looked at Willas, who was trying pretty hard to not lose his composure.

“For the record, you’re a terrible poet when you’re drunk,” she said. With that, Sansa leaned forward and planted a brief kiss on Willas. The class cheered, which made both of them break apart and laugh. Turning back to the class she folded her arms and sighed.

“Well, I think I’ll be nice. Turn in your projects and then go take a nap for the rest of the hour. That’s an order, now get out of here.” The class took no time at all to stack their projects on one of the desks on their way out the door. As soon as the room was empty, Sansa collected the messy stack and returned to Willas. “You, sir, took a wild risk back there.”

“Well, Martell over in biology did get me a little bit drunk last night and let’s just say that I was a bit more open to the suggestion of making a complete fool out of myself for the sake of getting the point across.” Willas smiled and kissed the top of her head. “But hey, you don't hate me anymore. Want to go on a real lunch date? As in, out somewhere rather than eating reheated food in our offices?”

“Sure. As long as you promise to never take any of my classes ever again.” Sansa had a smile on her face, but a serious look in her eye. Willas nodded in agreement. He was done writing awful poetry.


End file.
